


Moving On

by nekonexus



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Journey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-13
Updated: 2005-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekonexus/pseuds/nekonexus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the journey, things can never be the same. How do you move on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On

It wasn't what he expected, of course.

Somehow, the taboo of mixed blood had become something to be pitied, rather than feared. Gojyo's red hair and eyes brought him sympathy now. Unwanted, unneeded, distasteful sympathy, but it was there none-the-less. His poor mother, they'd say, being forced by one of those _youkai._ How dreadful it must have been for her. How strong you are, to overcome that, to fight against them with that monk.

Reputations preceded them, somehow. The news had had years to travel.

Gojyo got antsy, talked about moving on, but ended up staying. The talk died down after a couple of months. Life went back to that boring _normal_ habit. It was easy to just play cards, drink beer, and smoke the night away.

It was not so easy for Hakkai.

They knew who he was now. Genocide. Murderer. Turned on his own kind twice. Neither humans nor youkai could trust him, regardless of how he still wore his limiters. The marketplace turned cold, the gossip turned vicious. He could have turned vicious in response, was ever aware of the edge his smile did not hide, but there was Gojyo. It was Gojyo's life, Gojyo's place.

He was the one who did not belong.

It had been summer when they returned; bright and golden and warm.

It was autumn when he left. The leaves turned and fell, dying, blanketing the ground with their corpses, gold and scarlet and orange.

It seemed appropriate.

He did not say goodbye. Did not leave a note, since Gojyo would have difficulty reading it anyway. Only tidied the house one last time, packed his things and left in the dark, quiet hours of a moonless night. Fate was quite insistent that he have nothing of his own, it seemed. His shoulder was bare of both sash and white dragon. With the journey complete, Hakuryuu had simply vanished one night. The clouds had twisted like dragons overhead and the wind had carried the scent of the ocean.

He went to the temple, because it was the only other home he had known. Sanzo did not seem surprised to see him. Goku was delighted, eager to continue his lessons with a more familiar teacher. A month passed, and he thought the silence might drive him sane.

Winter crept in, and there was snow on the ground on the day he finally ventured to return. It was Gojyo's birthday, and though he could not say it was a thing to celebrate, he could at least use it as an excuse.

The house was warm with light and laughter, wrapped in the snug white blanket of the first real snowfall. He stood on the doorstep, head bowed, hands empty at his sides, listening. He almost left without knocking, but some last painful need drove him to rap sharply.

Her eyes were red. For a moment that would not end, they blinked at each other across the lintel.

Her hair was red, too, and long, spilling loose over her shoulders.

"Gojyo!" she called, and the sound of her voice was like honeyed wine, sweet and easy on the ears. "You have a guest."

"Ah, no," he tried to say, backing up a step and raising his hands. "Please excuse me. I do not mean to intrude --"

"Hakkai," Gojyo said, appearing behind her. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close to plant a kiss on the top of her head before shooing her away.

His heart curled in on itself and tried to crawl into the pit of his stomach, where it might dissolve in acidic pain. His throat became a tunnel of sandpaper, through which no words could pass. A desert of disbelief.

"What brings you here?" Gojyo asked.

He cleared his throat but could not find a smile. "Your birthday," he said, the words falling like stones into the snow at his feet.

"Ah. Yeah, she's bakin' a cake." He smiled, but his eyes flinched away from Hakkai's.

"She... you...?" He did not know what he was trying to ask, had no right to ask anything.

"Yeah," Gojyo said quietly. "Yeah."

His shoulders slumped forward without his permission, body language betraying him so badly it must be painful to both of them. "I see," he said.

"Did you... want to come in?" The question had all the polite formality of proper society, and all the discomfort Gojyo was hiding.

He shook his head. "No, no. I'm sorry to have interrupted." He forced himself to meet Gojyo's gaze directly but could not read what he saw there. "Happy birthday," he whispered.

"Thanks."

Turning, he traced his steps back through the snow.


End file.
